


Four times when Tony showed extreme interest in Clint's penis and the one time when it paid off

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Aliens, Crack, Gen, Humor, Knotting, M/M, Science Bros, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Clint shows remarkable restraint, Tony is one with the spirit of science and Steve hones his genitalia-related instincts. </p><p>(Also there's knotting. Sort of. /o\)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four times when Tony showed extreme interest in Clint's penis and the one time when it paid off

**Author's Note:**

> My enormous thanks to were_duck who looked this over and told me how to make it better.

1.

Being an Avenger means dealing with a pretty endless list of occupational hazards. On any given day Clint's life depends on Bruce Banner not letting his self control slip, Tony Stark not letting his ego get in the way of the mission, Thor deciding he's willing to cooperate with the Earthlings. There are a lot of variables, and Clint wouldn't trade his job for the world, but sometimes he wishes the universe didn't feel the need to throw any additional complications his way. Especially when it comes to Clint's dick. 

Clint's been tortured and mind-controlled and dropped out of buildings and forced to deal with extreme temperatures. He feels like adding dick weirdness to his list of Never Want To Do That Ever Again, Thanks activities is the universe being plain unreasonable.

That is until he walks into his quarters – his new quarters, in what used to be Stark Tower – to find Tony Stark lounging on his bed, naked except for Clint’s sheet wrapped around his waist. Until that moment Clint had though the universe was done with him for the day.

"I refuse to believe Fury told you," Clint says, curiosity getting the better of him.

"He didn't have to," Stark grins, predatory. "I have other friends in high places."

"You hacked into Banner's records, didn't you?" Clint had been conflicted about letting Fury send the results from his medical scans to Banner, but ultimately agreed that it was worth letting the guy have a look. Clearly he'd failed to evaluate all the variables. "Didn't he threaten you with 'unimaginable mental scars' last time?"

Tony didn't seem concerned. "I'll make it worth your while if you promise not to tell him?" 

"Get out and I promise not to punch you in the next ten seconds," Clint said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, come on!" Tony says, sitting up on Clint's bed. "I promise it'll be fun--"

"Seven seconds."

"I really thought you'd be more open minded about this," Tony says, wrapping the sheet more securely around his body.

"Five."

 

2.

"How did you avoid getting punched in the face?" Natasha asks, chewing on a sandwich in the kitchen, two days later.

"Magic powers," Tony says. "Now will you help me?"

"Not in a million years," Natasha says, taking another bite. "I'm only entertaining this conversation because I'm genuinely curious." She swallows. "About the lack of punching."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Doesn't anyone understand the value of exploring this amazing new development? For science?"

"What are we doing for science?" Steve says, walking into the room with an empty coffee mug.

"Your boyfriend's been trying to get into Clint's pants ever since we fought those were-sharks last week."

"Space were-sharks!" Tony corrects. "One of whom bit a human! With miraculous, fascinating results!"

Steve pauses in the act of pouring himself coffee. "This has something to do with penises, doesn't it?" He cringes and blushes simultaneously, but only a little bit.

"Your instincts are getting better," Natasha says, encouragingly.

 

3.

"I'm not helping you convince Clint to sleep with you," Bruce says, moving equations around on one of the glass surfaces in his second favorite lab.

"You're a scientist!" Tony exclaims. "How can you not understand!"

"I'm too busy plotting your doom to understand. Sorry," Bruce says without looking away from his charts.

"I've seen the Hulk's dick," Tony says, dismissively. "There's nothing you can do to me now."

Bruce produces something between a chuckle and a genuine evil laugh, which Tony takes to mean that Bruce strongly disagrees with his last statement. Whatever, Tony can take him.

"Am I not attractive enough? Is that it?" Tony throws himself at one of the soft sofa-benches he's had installed in every laboratory ever since make out breaks became a regular fixture of his work day. "Do you think he just doesn't like me?"

"I'm not sure he's overly fond of other people's penises as a general rule, if you're wondering," Bruce says, tapping the glass surface a final time before going to pick up his tablet. "Even if you've suddenly discovered a deep affection for his."

 

4.

"Anyway," Tony says, "apparently on some godforsaken, bizarro shrimp planet the sharks all have canine-like biology – don't ask me what the sharks turn into when they're not sharks, that animal was impossible to identify in the middle of a battle, possibly giant shrimp – and some of their DNA gets transferred to humans if a human gets bitten. None of us got close enough for that to happen, though, except, ironically, Clint, so the sample size is really small. But yes, so, dicks with knots is what those sharks basically have. I don't even know why we decided to call them sharks. Bruce's biology cred is shaky at best, I really should have challenged him more on that classification."

"Um," Jane Foster says, "I'm just here to see Ms. Potts? I… guess this isn't her office?"

"Oh no, it's her office," Tony assures her. "I just like working here when I need an office and she's not around. Also sometimes when she is around. I like the way it smells in here."

Jane seems to consider this for a moment. "Chamomile?" she ventures.

"No, too flowery," Tony says. He's given up on trying to get Pepper to divulge her secret, but he appreciates it when other people put in the effort.

"So I guess the job interview's postponed," Jane says.

"Oh, no, you're hired. Pepper was going to ask me to vet you before we hired you anyway, so, consider that process done."

"OK," Jane says, obviously still a little confused.

"Now about the canine-shark mutation penis--"

"Honestly," Jane interrupts. "Shouldn't you be talking to your friend Clint about this? I mean, it sounds like a private, potentially really embarrassing condition to have, especially as the result of a freak accident."

"Yeah." Tony sighs. "Unfortunately that would end in punching."

Jane nods. "I can see how that would be the case."

 

5.

"Tony," Steve says, wrapped around Tony, his skin warm against Tony's back. "We got you something," he whispers it in Tony's ear, a confession more than a secret, his hand running down Tony's chest, caressing his stomach.

When Tony fell asleep earlier it was 10am on a Tuesday, and he'd spent 18 hours telling a new and exciting species of aliens to go fuck themselves with every weapon in his extensive arsenal, followed by getting back to the Tower, followed by about 20 minutes of handjobs and attempted blowjobs with Bruce and Steve before they all passed out from exhaustion. Well, Tony had passed out. Steve had looked sort of groggy, though.

Bruce enters into Tony's view, emerging from the bathroom. He's holding a box, which Tony decides to treat as a good thing. Technically Bruce still owes him one traumatizing experience, but he probably wouldn't want to scar Steve in the process.

Bruce is also naked, Tony's brain registers, belatedly. It makes Tony smile. Naked is definitely his favorite Bruce flavor.

"We decided to make you a present," Bruce says, sitting down on the mattress, "now that Clint is permanently cured and you've lost your chance to hassle him into fucking you." 

Tony sighs at the reminder. 

"For science," Bruce adds in a wry tone, and Tony rolls his eyes at him. He should campaign to have one of Bruce's PhDs revoked for his blatant disinterest in human/were-shark mutations.

Bruce and Steve share a glance over Tony's shoulder and then Bruce opens the box, retrieving… a dildo.

"Well," Tony says, about to remind them about his already extensive collection, when Bruce interrupts him.

"It's not just a dildo."

"Is it not," Tony says, accepting what looks like an average-size pale gray dildo from Bruce's hands. It takes him longer than it should to notice the tube extending from the back. "It's… inflatable?" Tony's already got a few of those in his collection.

"Not just inflatable," Steve says. He sounds a little breathless, which Tony finds both intriguing and delightful.

"Show me," Tony says.

Steve pushes Tony to lie on his back, half draped over him, holding him down with his weight. Bruce is in charge of the demonstration.

Like most inflatable dildos Tony's seen, the tube in the back is attached to a small air pump that gives the wielder control over how quickly the toy is inflated.

Except after watching Bruce's hands squeeze the pump a few times – a sight that already has Tony's dick paying full attention – Tony realizes the dildo is only growing in one specific areas.

For a very brief moment he's actually speechless. Mostly because his brain is flooding him with images or Bruce and Steve working on this together, planning this, _picking out a box_ to put this present in.

"You… you made me a dog dick," Tony finally blurts out, utterly in awe.

"We made you fantasy dick, how about that," Bruce says, cringing at what Tony suspects is Steve's facial impression. Tony wouldn't know – all of his attention is on the dildo Bruce is still not done inflating. The knot is… it's… Tony's speechless again.

"I can use it on you tonight," Steve says, and Tony wants to look at his face, desperately, but all he manages to do is close his eyes and let the anticipation, the images wash over him. He's so hard his balls are on the verge of bursting.

He opens his eyes in time to see Bruce nodding at Steve. "After the gala, tonight."

"Fuck the gala," Tony says with more passion than most people can muster on their wedding day.

Bruce bends down to pick up the box he'd apparently dropped on the floor, hiding a smile.

"No, no, I'm serious," Tony says, because this is _important_. "I know I always say that but I mean it this time. _Fuck_ the gala. Bruce get rid of that box before I burn it, get that dildo back here, don't you dare--"

He's interrupted by Steve, who slides one hand into Tony's hair and uses the other to press down on Tony's chest and yes, fuck, Tony has always been weak for the rare glimpses of Steve's dominant side. Steve bends down to kiss Tony, mouthing along the stubble on his cheek, licking Tony's lips and pushing his tongue into Tony's willing mouth.

"Tonight, after the gala," Steve says when they draw apart, his breath ghosting over Tony's skin.

"Yeah," Tony says, licking his lips. He swallows. "OK."

Steve lets Tony go, rolls out of bed and heads for the bathroom just as Bruce, fresh from hiding the box somewhere he no doubt thinks it'll take Tony hours to find, slides into bed.

"Later," Bruce says, propped up on an elbow, idly running his fingers through Tony's hair. "When he's fucking you with that thing, I'll even help you pretend he's a were-shark."

"Oh, oh my god," Tony jumps, rolling straight out of bed and onto the floor. He's never getting that mental image out of his head. "I hate you so fucking much," he hisses at Bruce. "If you weren't so good at making me sex toys we'd be done right now. _Done_."

Bruce laughs in response. Tony has to admit, it's still so refreshingly awesome to hear Bruce genuinely laugh, for any reason.

"Seriously, I've updated my security," Bruce says. "You better stay out of my files, Tony." He's still grinning.

"Ugh," Tony says, and climbs back into bed.

 

(6.

In October, Fury sends Natasha to Shanghai for three months. Technically Clint has no reason to follow her. In practice he spends a month at headquarters working on his gymnastics and approving Stark's new arrow designs before he books himself a ticket and tells Fury to page him if something truly world-threatening shows up.

"Didn't S.H.I.E.L.D set up emergency shifts for everyone once a week? Did you really manage to convince Fury to give you a month off?" Natasha says as they're sipping cocktails at a hotel bar with a killer view.

"I got Banner to cover my shifts," Clint shrugs. "We haven't had anything major since you left. I guess you kind of take disaster with you," he gives Natasha a teasing grin and she smiles back before ordering another round of shots.

"So, how big of a favor did the good doctor owe you?" Natasha says, when they're in the elevator, Clint holding a truly fine, half empty bottle of liquor.

"Huge. Enormous. Life altering. Cosmic proportions," Clint replies, slurring his words a little. He hasn't been drunk in five years. The last time was when he and Natasha finished their first mission together. He tries to be bothered by how she's the only one he's ever felt comfortable surrendering his edge around, but can't muster enough energy to care. It's Natasha. This thing between them isn't new, even if the alcohol is an infrequent addition.

"You let him to do something to your dick that time it was mutated, didn't you?" Natasha says, inflection flat, as if she was asking Clint which floor his room was on.

Clint takes another swig from the bottle as the doors of the elevator open. "I'm pretty sure Stark now has a sex toy shaped like my penis," he says, stepping into the corridor.

Natasha grabs the bottle out of his hand and takes a swig herself. Her face looks pained. "Shit, there is not enough alcohol in this city to wipe away that mental image," she says.

"Tell me about it," Clint sighs, taking back the bottle and pulling out his room key.)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic began as an attempt to write Clint and knotting and sex toys, if you can believe it, but ultimately morphed into... this. My apologies to delfinnium for not following neither the letter nor the spirit of her prompt.


End file.
